Foreign Royalty
by OldFashionedGirl95
Summary: In which the children, lately returned from ruling, miss their old life and meet new friends, who just might turn out to be legendary heroes of their land. The rulers of a land know its history, but this-this is impossible!


**Disclaimer: Not affiliated, yada yada yada . . .**

**AN: This was inspired by the awe with which Tirian speaks of "Lord Digory and Lady Polly," and I thought that surely the children would know the story, but just when did they figure out **_**who**_** the Professor was, and what did they think when they did? If the timeline for this story seems too short, let me know.**

**11-1-11: Newly tweaked (reassigned a few lines, mostly) and with an epigraph from _Alice. _Carry on as usual.**

"_Who are _you_?" said the Caterpillar. _

_This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I—I hardly know sir, just at present—at least, I know who I _was_ when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."_

from _Alice in Wonderland _by Lewis Carroll

Once there were four children who had a very curious adventure. It began with a mysterious wardrobe and an elderly Professor who lived in the English countryside, but there was also a magical land, a witch, a great lion, a castle, and battles and feasts and affairs of state and grand, glorious balls—for these children became kings and queens in that land, and ruled for ever so long, and the land was happier than it had been in centuries. And as the boys grew into wise, majestic kings and warriors, and the girls into brave and beautiful queens, they had dozens of exciting days and scores of dull ones. I am sure that even one of their duller days would sound strange and enchanting to you, who are not accustomed to the life of a very busy and happy young sovereign, but my tale today does not come from those years, golden as they were.

No. Tonight my tale shall be of something which took place after the children left their dear land. For when the Great Lion saw that they had ruled the country well, with majesty, justice, faith, and love, and that their country no longer truly needed them, he brought them back to the country they were born in—back to that ancient house in the countryside, where the old professor lived with three servants and his sharp-tongued housekeeper, and where the mysterious wardrobe stood—and they were seen no more in that other land, for the Great Lion had taken them away.

And even though they had ruled for years and years and become great and wise sovereigns, they suddenly found that they were children once more, and that no time at all had passed in that queer old house. In fact, the histories tell us that nothing at all seemed to have changed in that house, except that four good fur coats were now missing from the wardrobe, and when the children realized they had left them behind—years ago, it had been—they saw that the only thing left to do was to try to explain where the coats had gone.

And the Professor (who really was a very remarkable man) didn't think they were crazy or lying, but questioned them very carefully and believed every word of their tale. Finally he sat back and said, "No, I don't think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe to get the coats. You won't get into Narnia again by that route. Nor would the coats be much use by now if you did!"

The girls looked like they were about to cry, and Peter, the eldest, said, "But will we ever get back?"

And the Professor said, "Yes, of course you'll get back into Narnia again someday. Once a King in Narnia, always a King in Narnia. But don't go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don't try to get there at all. It'll happen when you're not looking for it. And don't talk too much about it even among yourselves. And don't mention it to anyone else unless you find that they've had adventures of the same sort themselves."

"How will we know?" asked Edmund, sometime The Just, and the Professor said.

"Oh, you'll know all right. Odd things they say—even their looks—will let the secret out. Keep your eyes open. Bless me, what do they teach them at these schools?"

The Professor began to attend to his pipe, and the three older children turned to go. It seemed the conversation was over, but Lucy, the youngest girl, stood very still and looked at the Professor. It wasn't exactly staring, but she looked at him very hard for a minute as he lit his pipe, and then she asked, "Sir?"

He took the pipe out of his mouth and looked up. "Eh, what's that?"

"Sir," Lucy began again, and behind her the others paused to see what she might say. "Sir, were you ever in Narnia?"

The old professor's eyes crinkled up, he set down his pipe, and he smiled at her until she cried, "You were! Oh, Mr. Professor, do tell us all about it. How did you get there? Are you a king there, too? Did you live in Cair Paravel?"

"Lucy!" said Susan.

But the Professor looked at Lucy rather merrily and picked up his pipe again. "Yes, Lucy. I was there long ago, but I was never made king." He lit his pipe and looked at the four eager children, all standing in front of him again. "I visited Narnia only once, when I was a boy. That was before Cair Paravel was built." He puffed on his pipe and Lucy said,

"Did anyone else go with you, sir?"

"Yes," he said, and his face was very grave for a moment, "but only I and Miss Plummer—she lived next door to me when we were children and I always called her Polly—still remember it." He was silent, puffing on his pipe and gazing at the dying fire, for a minute, and then he roused himself, and an odd little smile played in his beard as he said. "Enough questions for one day, children. You must be tired. I have letters to write, and I wouldn't want to be the cause of Mrs. Macready scolding you for staying up. Off to bed with your royal majesties, and I shall tell you of my journeys and answer all your questions at tea tomorrow."

Lucy was very quiet as they went back to their rooms and as she and Susan got dressed for bed. When the boys came in to say goodnight, she was kneeling at the window. Peter came over and knelt beside her.

"There's the Plough," he said, pointing out the window. "Ages since we've seen it."

Lucy looked, but didn't answer.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You heard the Professor. We'll get back someday."

She looked at him. "Do you think Aslan can still hear us?"

"Certainly," he said. "Didn't you tell me that he is always with you?"

She nodded, and turned back to the dark window.

"What's biting you, Lu?"

"Oh," she said. "It's only—I feel I should know, Peter."

"Know what?"

"Who the Professor is. Don't laugh," she said, looking over at him. "Who he is in Narnia, I mean. When he said that bit about how we'd know, it gave me the strangest feeling. And if he's been to Narnia, even long ago, mightn't we have learned of him? Or does my royal brother so easily forget numerous, if pleasant hours spent in the library in study of History?"

Peter smiled. "Nay, good my sister. He is not so soon forgetful."

Behind them, on the bed, Susan smiled. "I don't believe I'll ever forget Mr. Beaver saying, 'The rulers of a land must know its history.' "

Lucy jumped up. "That's it! He's the Lord Digory!"

"Really, Lu," said Edmund, laughing. "I know you've never been good with dates, but even you know that was a thousand years ago."

"How do you get that?" said Peter.

Lucy shook her head. "Don't you remember? The day after our coronation, when we were having tea with the Beavers. It was the first time Mr. Beaver said that bit about history."

"Oh yes," said Susan. "That was the first time, wasn't it? And I wanted to know how the Animals learned to talk, and Edmund said, 'Who was King before the Witch came to Narnia?' and Peter said, 'Has anyone else from our world ever come to Narnia?' and Lucy, you said, 'Tell us of Aslan.' "

"Yes," said Lucy, sitting on the bed and wrapping her arms around her knees. "Mrs. Beaver said, 'One question at a time, dears,' but Mr. Beaver laughed and said he'd tell us a story about all four." She closed her eyes for a moment, calling back the good Beaver's voice. "He told us of the Lion's Song, and the Garden in the West, and the Tree of Protection, and when he finished, he said, 'And that, King Peter, is the tale of the two children who visited Narnia long ago from your world, and, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, of how Aslan gave us Animals the gift of speech, and, King Edmund, of the first King and Queen of Narnia and how the Witch first entered Narnia."

The others sighed. "I'll miss the Beavers," said Peter.

"Don't you see?" Lucy said now, eyes bright. "The Professor said he visited Narnia long, long ago, when he was a boy, and that a girl went with him. If you're so good with dates," she shot at Edmund, "then tell me when the Cair was built?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember exactly, but didn't King Gale live there?"

"Right. Long before our time. And didn't the Professor say it hadn't yet been built when he visited Narnia? And Mr. Beaver said," she went on, "that the only children in the history of Narnia, perhaps the only Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve before our time, who entered the fair land of Narnia and after returned to England were the noble Lord Digory and the fair Lady Polly."

She had lapsed into the old ways of talking as she delivered that speech, and as she gazed earnestly up at Peter, he saw her as she had appeared only that morning—twenty-three years of age, the lovely Queen Lucy the Valiant of the Glistening Eastern Sea, Aslan's dear one and the beloved leader of her people in joy and in faith. But so much of that lady and her crown were lost with the fur coats, back—back wherever the land within the wardrobe now was. Left behind, in her place, was a little girl, eight years old, who was scared of the big old house because it was so very different from the castle she had known and loved for her last decade and a half of life; who was scared of the dark—a little—because she knew what sorts of evil creatures relish it; but who wasn't very scared of the dark, because she knew Who ruled both night and morning, and that in the darkest of hours, He always promised the dawn.

Peter blinked, and shook his head wearily. "It's late, Lu, and we've had a long day. Let's get some sleep, and you can ask the Professor tomorrow."

"It has to be him," she said doggedly. "He said the girl he went with was named Polly." The momentary gleam in her eye assured him that she had something exciting in mind, and then she climbed under the covers. "The sheets feel scratchy," she said, smiling sadly, and they all remembered she had said that once before—had it been a week, or fifteen years?

Susan returned her smile. "I don't suppose anything can compare to the sheets the Willows used to weave."

"Do you suppose they're still having the ball tonight, to celebrate the Hunt?"

Susan's hand went to her mouth. "Sylvia just finished my new gown this morning." And her lips trembled.

Peter looked blank. "Lune was bringing everyone up in time for the feast."

"Didn't we invite the Telmarine ambassador to join us tomorrow?" said Edmund. He sighed. "I suppose they're hunting us, now." Lucy began to cry. "Don't worry. Aslan will take care of them." He turned to Peter. "We never discussed our heirs, did we?"

Peter shook his head. "If Aslan doesn't name the next ruler himself, I expect the council will agree on someone. I would vote for Lord Peridan, myself."

Lucy wiped her eyes. "Will they let the Parliament in on the decision?"

Peter didn't know but he nodded confidently. "I'm sure they will, Lucy. The Owls wouldn't stand for it otherwise."

So these four, the childlike queens and kingly schoolboys, comforted each other and settled in for their first night back in their foreign homeland.

The sun shone brightly the next day, but the children stayed inside and passed the time with the wireless and the plentiful books. Lucy looked out the window at the trees, picking out beech, alder, maple, birch, and oak, and straining to catch just one glimpse of a leafy face or a breezy laugh. They ate their dinner in their rooms, and then Mrs. Macready came and shooed them outside to enjoy the lovely day, but they merely sat on the back steps and stared into the woods listening to Susan hum a Narnian lullaby until Lucy got the housekeeper let them come back inside.

"I never saw such a quiet group of children in all my born days!" she said. "Yes, you may come back in if you wish, but I never!"

They were almost back to their sitting room when Edmund turned to Lucy and asked, "What did you say to the Macready to get her to let us in?"

Lucy gave him a cool, level gaze, but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Think not for a moment, my beloved royal brother, that thy sister hath forgotten all the charms and graces which she learned so well."

That brought a smile to Susan's face, and then she said, "What was that?"

"Just the doorbell," said Peter. "Let's go see if we can hear who it is."

They went to the top of the stairs, and could hear the muffled voices of the Professor and his visitor, and then the voices and footsteps faded away below towards the Professor's study. The children wished very much, as they went glumly back to their sitting room, that they might still be royalty—for then the mysterious guest would come to meet them, and whoever-it-was would kiss the girls' hands and bow to the boys, and—

"Even a Calormene diplomat would be better than this!" sighed Peter. _This_ being, quite simply, the fact that good English children of those days did not descend to greet visitors, indeed, were neither seen nor heard unless called. The children wished with all their might that they might be called, and not left to listlessly pick up their books again, fiddle with the wireless, and gaze out the window at the threatening rain.

At last it was nearly tea-time and Ivy, the maid. appeared to fetch them. Lucy had roused from the window some time before and convinced them to put on their second-best clothes (which felt like scrubbing smocks beside their memories) for their tea with the Professor, and they carried themselves regally, even a little excited at the prospect of hearing the Professor's story, as they descended the stairs.

"The Professor has a visitor for tea," Ivy was saying, "and Mrs. Macready says you are to remember your manners and speak politely to Miss Plummer."

Lucy lit up and whispered "Miss _Polly _Plummer" behind Ivy's back to the others, looking as if she'd just discovered that the great old fir tree on the back lawn had a dryad, or that the housekeeper's cat had just birthed Talking Kittens. As they reached the door to the sitting room, they could hear a woman's voice saying,

"Yes, you ought to tell them the whole story. If they're anything like what you have been telling me, they'll never blame—" The voice broke off quickly as Ivy knocked at the door and said,

"Here are the children, Professor."

The Professor rose to meet them, and behind him, at the table, there sat a very wise-looking old lady. Lucy had contrived to be the first one in the room, and now she curtsied grandly, in the Narnian way, to the Professor, saying in her best formal ball voice, "My lord Digory. It is an honor."

Behind her, Peter rolled his eyes, but glanced at the others, one on each side of him. They would play along. He bowed to the (rather surprised) Professor, and to his right and left, Edmund bowed and Susan curtsied. Then Peter, sometime High King Over All Kings in Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, drew himself up very tall and gazed right into the Professor's eyes,

"My noble Lord Digory, if you are indeed, as my royal sister believes, he who, with the Lady Polly, entered the glorious land of Narnia on the very first day and planted the Tree of Protection, then we are very greatly honored to meet you."

Lucy flashed him a bright smile, delighted that he'd played his part, but he wished he hadn't said quite so much in front of this unknown lady, who was now showing as much surprise as women of her generation thought permissible. But the Professor recovered from whatever surprise he had felt with great rapidity (he really was quite a remarkable man) and smiled broadly.

"Excellent deduction, children! I suppose that would make my dear friend here, with whom I have taken the liberty of sharing some of your story—" he helped the visitor out of her chair, "—the Lady Polly."

Lucy beamed as the girls curtsied again and the boys bowed, and Peter kissed the lady's hand and said, "My fair Lady Polly, who with our lord Digory, flew with the Father of All Winged Horses and journeyed to the Garden in the West, it is truly a great honor even to meet you this eve."

And the Lady Polly, though still surprised, curtsied to Peter gravely and answered, "As it is an honor to meet a fellow servant of the Lion, Your Majesty. You are the High King Peter, I presume?"

"Aye," said Peter, enjoying himself more than he had since the morning previous, when they'd been riding through the forest in search of wishes. "And this is our royal brother, King Edmund the Just, and our royal sisters, Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant."

"It is an honor, Your Majesties," said Lady Polly.

"The honor is ours," they said, and then the boys helped the girls to their seats. The servants passed the tea things around—and it was a very nice tea—and as the Professor poured, Lucy looked around the table and began the conversation by saying, "I hope you didn't mind the formal introductions, Professor Kirke and Miss Plummer. I've always enjoyed such things."

The Professor smiled at her, and Miss Plummer said, "Not at all."

"We're very excited to meet you," said Lucy, "but we've no need to keep talking as if we're at court. Here in England, we're just Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."

Susan sent an approving glance Lucy's way.

"Then I shall be Aunt Polly," said Miss Plummer, and all was settled.

The Professor set down the teapot. "It really was a most excellent deduction, children. But how do you know our story?"

The four of them looked at each other and laughed. Peter said, "The smallest kit, cub, or sapling knows the tale of how Aslan sang the world into being and gave the Animals speech, and of how Fledge, the First Winged Horse, carried the noble Lord Digory, the Son of Adam, and the fair Lady Polly, the Daughter of Eve, to the Garden in the West to bring back the silver Apple, and that the Son of Adam planted the Tree of Protection near Lantern Waste, where it stood and guarded the land of Narnia for nearly nine hundred years."

Edmund added, "And as Mr. Beaver used to say, the rulers of a land must know its history."

"It was our very first history lesson after our coronation," said Lucy.

"I never thought so many would know our story," said Aunt Polly.

"We don't know all of it," said Edmund. "We always wondered where you came from and how you got to Narnia."

"And if the apple healed your mother," said Susan softly.

The Professor smiled at her. "Yes," he said. "It did, and Aslan gave us a great many happy years together after that."

"Will you tell us the whole story, sir?" said Peter.

"With pleasure," said he, but Lucy couldn't resist one last question.

"Oh!" she said. "Was there really a Neevil?"

And the Professor smiled sadly at her and said, "Yes, there was, my child. An evil very great indeed."

They talked a long time that evening, and the children stayed up far past their new bedtime. The Professor and Aunt Polly told their story, the children told more of theirs and thought hard to remember their lessons in early Narnian history, and old questions were answered for both sets of travelers. And late that night, when the children had gone to bed and Aunt Polly had been shown to her room (she was intending to stay for several days, for it was the holidays) an old Professor with shaggy white hair sat in his study, in his big, old house in the English countryside, and stared into the fire.

". . . but I will see to it that the worst falls upon myself," he murmured, and continued to gaze into the flames long into the night.

_~ consumatum est ~_


End file.
